The Billionaire Next Door (The Sherbrookes of Newport Book 10)

by Christina Tetreault

  This morning’s failed attempt reinforced what he was beginning to suspect. No distraction was going to get his creative juices flowing again. Only coming clean with Taylor and getting rid of his guilt would.

  In the beginning, he’d told himself he’d tell her the truth if and when he needed to. His gut told him the time had arrived. Unfortunately, it didn’t tell him anything else—like how to go about doing it or what to expect for a reaction. Repeatedly, his cousin’s words played through his head. “You’re asking for trouble. Take my word for it, women don’t like secrets.”

  He’d brushed off both his cousins at the time. Insisted it was no big deal. That everything would be fine. What a damn moron he’d been.

  Curt grabbed the utility knife and sliced though the top of another box. Even if he knew how to start, telling her tonight wasn’t an option. Both Priscilla and Reese would be there. Tomorrow was out as well. Taylor had mentioned taking Reese and her friend Hazel to an indoor trampoline park and then to the movies.

  Monday. He’d ask her to come by after work. He’d explain that, while he was the author of Fatal Deception like he’d told her, his last name wasn’t Hilton but Sherbrooke. He’d tell her why he’d kept the truth from her and answer any questions she had. Well, he would if she gave him opportunity. Honestly, Curt wasn’t sure Taylor would stick around long enough. He could clearly picture her telling him to go to hell and walking out the door. It would suck if she did, because he cared about her. For him it wasn’t all about the phenomenal sex, although it was a definite perk. A connection existed between them, one he suspected could easily develop into much more, given time.

  He reconsidered his decision. The longer he waited, the worse it’d be.

  “At this point, what’s two more days?” He guessed he’d find out soon enough.

  Chapter Ten

  When he let Taylor and her family in several hours later he still hadn’t gotten any work on the book done, but he had made significant progress in the kitchen. He considered that a Saturday well spent.

  “Curt, we have Boston cream pie and two kinds of ice cream. Mimi and I made the pie from scratch.” Reese held up the plate she carried for his inspection.

  “Looks outstanding.”

  His comment earned him a beaming smile from the little girl. He’d learned over the past few weeks that it didn’t take much to make Reese smile.

  “And I brought my soccer ball. It’s in my backpack. Can we go practice?”

  His worries from earlier disappeared at her enthusiasm. Taylor had told him it was difficult to be upset with Reese around, and she was right.

  “I told you not to nag him about that tonight.” Priscilla followed her granddaughter into the house. The warm smile he’d come to associate with the older woman was absent. It was replaced by a subdued, forced one. “She wanted to bring the lacrosse stick over, too. I made her leave it at home.”

  Curt accepted the grocery bag containing the ice cream Priscilla handed him. “I’d love to practice soccer again, but how about after dinner? The steaks are already on the grill.”

  Reese took her backpack off and left it near the front door. “Mmm. I love steak.”

  Even with Taylor’s mom and niece standing there, Curt couldn’t resist moving closer to her and brushing his lips across her cheek. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me, too.” She sounded and looked distracted. For a moment he wondered if she knew the truth about him. He quickly dismissed the idea. There was no way she’d figured it out from the guarded information he gave her. Something else was bothering her tonight.

  He grasped her hand before he spoke again. “We’re eating outside. If you want to head out there, I’ll be there in a minute. Just need to put this away.” He held up the plastic bag with the ice cream. “The quickest way out is down the hall and through the ballroom on the right.”

  Priscilla took the pie from Reese’s hands and gave him a knowing look. “Take your time. I know the way out.”

  Taylor had mentioned that Priscilla and the previous owners were friends. He should’ve realized she’d been inside the house before today.

  Once his other two guests were out of hearing, he turned his full attention on Taylor. “What’s wrong?”

  Her sigh could’ve knocked down a tree. “My sister made a surprise visit this morning.”

  He couldn’t tell if she needed comfort or someone to vent her frustration out on. He decided to go with comfort, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Were Reese and your mom there?”

  Taylor nodded, the muscles in her jaw moving.

  That explained the change he saw in Priscilla, too. “How’d it go?” It wasn’t any of his business, but he cared about Taylor and liked her family. He didn’t want to see any of them upset.

  She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Let’s talk about it later. I’d rather not think about it right this minute.”

  “You got it.”

  He held her hand all the way down the hallway, until they entered the kitchen.

  “Wow, a little busy in here?” She looked around the room at the additional cabinets he’d installed since she’d seen it last night. “I thought you planned on writing today. What happened?”

  Curt put the ice cream in the ancient refrigerator freezer, the only appliance still left in the kitchen. Since they all needed replacing anyway, he’d asked Ed to help him move the old dishwasher and stove out when he’d stopped over to help the previous week. He’d already ordered their replacements, as well as a new refrigerator. Hopefully, in another week he’d be ready for them to be delivered, because he was sick of washing his dishes by hand.

  “Tried. Eventually, I gave up and worked in here.” He opened a bottle of hard lemonade and passed it to her before opening one for himself. “What do you think your mom would like to drink? I picked up a red wine for dinner but can open something else now for her.”

  Taylor held up her bottle. “One of these is fine. And juice is good for Reese. If you don’t have any, she’ll drink water.”

  Curt grabbed another hard lemonade from the refrigerator, as well as a juice box.

  “Didn’t see you as a juice box kind of guy.”

  He didn’t drink much juice himself, but he remembered drinking apple juice and fruit punch all the time at Reese’s age. “I wanted to keep it a secret but”—definitely the wrong choice of words, considering the guilt pressing down on him already—“picked these up for Reese when I got the steaks.”

  She took her time surveying the room. “It’s really looking nice in here. I can’t believe you got so much done today. Maybe this writer’s block you have isn’t the worst thing in the world.”

  “Tell that to my editor when I don’t get the manuscript to her on time.” He pulled out the macaroni salad he’d bought, along with the shrimp cocktail.

  “Does it happen a lot? The writer’s block.”

  “Once in a while.” Did he need anything else? He went through a mental list of what he’d already set outside. “If you can carry the drinks, I’ll take this.”

  She’d spent enough time in the house to know her way around, so she knew the quickest way to the back patio from here was through the kitchen’s side door. “Anything particular cause it, or does it just happen?”

  “Stress, exhaustion.” Guilt. He wisely kept the last one to himself.

  Taylor stopped walking, forcing him to as well. Her eyebrow arched, and he saw the spark in her eyes. “Maybe I should come by less often. Let you get more rest at night. Your editor would probably approve.”

  “Did I mention it’s also caused by lack of sex?” He kissed the side of her neck. “We don’t want to compound the problem, do we?” He whispered the question against her skin. “Don’t worry, it’ll pass soon.” Yep, just as soon as he came clean with her.

  ***

  Think about the positives, not your stupid sister. She’d told herself the same thing over and over since Eliza had left the house. Up until now
she hadn’t done a very good job of following her own commands. She’d give it another try, because there were a lot of positives around her. She was sitting outside on a gorgeous late spring evening. She’d had a delicious steak dinner with people she enjoyed spending time with. Reese looked over-the-moon happy, and it didn’t appear as if Eliza’s surprise visit had bothered her. Taylor wasn’t sure if that was normal or not, but she’d concentrate more on the matter later. Last but not least in the “reasons to be happy” category was Curt.

  She watched him steal the ball away from Reese and dribble it across the yard, her niece doing her best to catch him. The man had thought to buy juice boxes for Reese. How many other men without children of their own would think to do that? None. Or at least none she knew. If the guy was trying to win her over, he was doing a fine job of it.

  “Reese and I should go soon,” Mom said. She sat next to her, still nursing the last of her red wine. Unlike Reese, seeing Eliza today had bothered Mom. After Eliza left, Mom had gone upstairs. She hadn’t stayed up there long, but when she came back she’d been unusually quiet as she and Reese baked. “Don’t worry about rushing home.”

  “Are you sure?” She felt bad. Between her extra long days at work and spending time with Curt, it seemed Mom had been taking care of bedtime duty a lot lately. “I don’t mind coming home with you guys.”

  Mom tipped her chin in Curt’s direction. “I think he’d mind.”

  “Mom—”

  “Hey, I’m not so old I don’t recognize the signs. He’s seriously interested in you. And my advice is to not let him get away.” She winked at her. “If I’m not up when you come home, I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Reese offered up a few grumbles when Priscilla announced it was time to leave. After Taylor reminded her of what she had to look forward to tomorrow, she conceded, and let Curt walk her and Priscilla to the car.

  Taylor watched as Curt opened the car door for Mom. “Don’t worry, I’ll walk Taylor home,” he assured Mom as she got behind the wheel.

  She almost laughed at his comment, but managed to simply smile instead. She was more than capable of taking care of herself, and he knew it. “Reese, we’ll have another lacrosse lesson soon.”

  Reese waved to them from the back seat as Mom turned onto the street and then disappeared down their long driveway.

  “Do you want to go in or stay outside?” Curt asked, taking her hand and leading her back up the stone walkway.

  “It’s too nice to be inside.” She wished every night could be like this. It was the perfect temperature, and the humidity remained low. Even the mosquitos had stayed away so far.

  They made a quick stop in the kitchen for more drinks. Unlike earlier, crickets provided the only noise around them. Taylor found the change soothing, especially considering the earlier events of the day. She’d blocked them out over dinner and dessert, and would prefer to keep them blocked out. Unfortunately, they were sneaking their way back into her thoughts.

  “You’re rather quiet.” Curt’s arm settled over her shoulders, and the warmth from his skin seeped into hers. “Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

  “Yes. Maybe.” She wasn’t usually an indecisive individual. She rubbed the spot just above her eyebrow, more to give herself something to do than because it bothered her. “I’m not sure what to think, you know? Eliza hasn’t stepped foot in the house since before her arrest, and then all of a sudden she shows up like she’s been a regular visitor all along.”

  The hand resting on her shoulder moved, and he started massaging the back of her neck instead. “Did she give an explanation for her visit?”

  “Some half-assed answer about wanting to wish Mom a happy Mother’s Day.” She rolled her eyes, even though Curt wasn’t looking at her. “It’s lie, of course. Mother’s Day isn’t today. Even if it were, she could’ve called. Mom’s had the same phone numbers forever.”

  “Why do you think she showed up?”

  She hated admitting the truth, telling Curt her sister wouldn’t think twice about stealing from her own family. But she hated lying to him even more. If this relationship between them continued to develop, he needed to know what kind of people lingered on her family tree.

  “Honestly, I think Eliza hoped no one would be home so she could break in and steal whatever she thought she could sell.”

  The hand massaging her neck stopped moving, and she waited for him to tell her he didn’t need people with relatives such as those in his life. If he did she’d understand, too. Hate it, but understand, because she didn’t want people like her sister in her life either. But as the old saying went, you can’t pick your family.

  “She’d do that to her mother? Her daughter?” Disgust and disbelief resonated in Curt’s voice.

  Taylor didn’t want to see his expression, but she looked toward him anyway. “She’s an addict. In my experience, they’ll do anything to get money for another hit. That includes stealing from their families and sometimes worse.” For the umpteenth time, she wished she could hunt down the person who’d first got Eliza hooked and kick his butt. “And I pretty sure she’s done it before. Before my dad passed away, someone broke into my parents’ house. Considering the things that were left behind, the only person it could’ve been was my sister. The police didn’t get any useable fingerprints, so I can’t be one-hundred percent certain.”

  “I’m sorry.” His voice contained only sympathy. Before she could speak, he pressed his lips against hers. When he pulled away she saw compassion in his eyes, and nothing else. “How did Reese handle it? It was more or less her first time meeting her mom, right?”

  He returned to massaging her neck, and at least one of her concerns slipped away. The additional information about her sister didn’t seem to bother him. “Remarkably well.”

  Taylor wondered if she should contact the school’s psychologist and inform her of this weekend’s events. She’d know better if Reese’s reaction had been a normal one or something to be worried about. “Reese recognized Eliza right away. Mom still has her senior class picture in her bedroom next to mine. Eliza looks a lot older, but we still resemble each other.”

  Taylor thought back over Reese’s behavior. Eliza hadn’t stayed long, and soon after she left Reese and Mom got to work on dessert. Just in case either of them needed her she’d hung around the kitchen, but Reese never mentioned Eliza. She’d acted like the whole visit never happened.

  “Reese never called her ‘Mom.’ When she saw Eliza, she said, “You’re Auntie’s sister.” And then she went up to her bedroom. She showed no interest in Eliza at all. Do you think that’s weird? I mean, she is her mom, and Reese knows it.”

  She felt the slight movement when he shrugged. “Maybe not. To Reese she’s some random person who stopped by. There’s no way she could have any memories of her. And you said Eliza’s never contacted Reese. What does Priscilla think?”

  “She’s not sure either. We didn’t talk much about it after Eliza left, but I know the visit bothered her a lot.”

  “Yeah, I noticed she didn’t seem herself tonight. She barely said anything.”

  “I think she suspects Eliza came by for the same reason I do. She just doesn’t want to say it.” She hated they were spending their time together talking about family issues. At the same time, she appreciated Curt’s willingness to listen, and his unbiased opinion.

  “Understandable. It’s her daughter. How’d you leave things with your sister?”

  “Mom told her to call once in a while, and I asked her not to come back.”

  Curt chuckled. “You asked her? I’m not buying it. You might have worded it as a request, but your tone would’ve said something else.”

  He had her. “Either way, I can’t shake this feeling she’ll be back.”

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  Some things in life you had no control over. Taylor knew this was one of them. “Maybe keep an eye out for any people or cars that don’t belong around here
. Other than that, I don’t think there’s anything either of us can do right now.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Curt estimated he had a minimum of five hours. He’d never known Taylor to get home before five or after midnight. He hoped this Monday didn’t prove to be any different. Even five more hours of pounding nails in the kitchen while at the same time mentally pounding his head into the wall, was almost more than he could handle.

  He didn’t know which bothered him more about the situation: The fact he still didn’t know how to begin, or that he didn’t know what her reaction would be once he did. When he asked her to come over right after work, she hadn’t questioned his request. He suspected thoughts of her sister kept her too occupied to give his question any real thought. He’d been okay with that. Saturday night hadn’t been the time to tell her the truth anyway. Eliza’s visit had caused her enough stress and unease. Blurting out that he’d kept secrets from her would’ve caused more. Tonight might not be the best time to tell her either. She’d appeared more at ease when he walked her home, but who knew what emotions might be lingering today.

  A nice long sit-down conversation later in the week might serve him better than one tonight. Curt considered it. Maybe he should gauge her emotions when she got here. If it appeared she’d had a stressful workday, he’d hold off. Tell her he’d asked her over just because he wanted to spend time with her. On the other hand, if she seemed relaxed, or at least relaxed for a Monday, he’d tell her everything. And hope she doesn’t tell me to go to hell.

  “I deserve it if she does.” Curt wiped the sweat dripping down his forehead with the back of his hand. Then he swung the hammer, intending to drive another nail into the trim around the window. He missed.

  “Fuck!”

  Pain exploded in his thumb, and he shook his hand. First, he couldn’t get rid of his writer’s block, and now he was injuring himself. The hammer mishap wasn’t the first time he’d hurt himself today. If he didn’t get his head on straight soon, he ran the risk of either killing his writing career or himself. Neither were palatable options.